Missing the Alpha

by Mia Rose

  The truck driver walked out of the store. Declan placed his items on the counter. “Pump four,” he said, as the girl looked from the window as the truck pulled from the forecourt.

  “Pump four?” she asked.

  Declan nodded reaching into his pocket for the money Judy had given him. “Why there a pair of legs hanging out of your passenger window?” she asked.

  Declan thought it was a funny thing to say and glanced from the window. “What the —fu…” he yelled as he shot from the store. “Hey!” he screamed as a kid was tugging at the backpack, obviously trying to squeeze it through the open window.

  Declan reached into his car and grabbed ahold of the kid. “What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled, shaking the kid by the collar of his jacket.

  “I’m sorry mister, I saw the window and the bag, you should be more careful,” the kid yelped back to Declan. “I’m hungry, I only wanted somethin’ to eat, and I could smell your food.” Declan froze at those last few words and loosened his grip on the kid.

  “You could smell the food?” he asked as the kid nodded. Declan looked over his shoulder and could see everyone in the store looking through the window. “Have you been bitten?”

  The kid glared at Declan, and his eyes went a pinkish hue. “Yeah, how did you know?” he asked Declan as he let go of his jacket.

  Declan stepped back. “I’m the alpha of a pack,” Declan said. The kid leaned forward and sniffed.

  “Sorry mister, I don’t smell it on you, your pulling my chain. You’re human,” the kid said, now getting ready to run.

  Declan rested his hands either side of the kid on the car. “I might be human now, yet within two days I'll be back in the position of Alpha. It’s a long story and not one you need to hear. Remember, my name Declan,” he said.

  “You’re not gonna call the cops then?” the kid asked, relaxing a little now Declan had told him his name.

  Declan shook his head and reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty. He handed it to the kid and told him to get something to eat. “If you’re stuck, make your way to Cripple Creek in Colorado, and look for Clifton Towers. Ask for me and we’ll see you right,” Declan said, now removing his hands from the roof of his car.

  “Why are you doing this?” the kid asked, seemingly stunned.

  “Because I know what it’s like to be in your position, and I wouldn’t wish it on any werewolf,” Declan replied. “You better get going before any cops do arrive.”

  The kid waved the fifty in front of Declan and thanked him. He started to run from the forecourt and shouted over his shoulder. “Keep your car windows closed in future.”

  Declan laughed as he made his way back to the cash register. “You let him go,” the girl said.

  “Yeah, he’s a hungry kid looking for some food. No harm was done.”

  Declan walked from the store. The brave face he'd kept on him vanished quick-smart as he sat back in his car. How fucking stupid can you be? Dumb ass, lock your car next time.

  He pulled from the forecourt and headed back onto the highway. He sipped his coffee as he watched the sun rising over the horizon. The hot coffee slipped down his throat, and the caffeine gave him the boost he needed to focus on the road ahead —and the next twelve hours. Declan leaned forward and turned the volume up on the radio. It was one of his favorites, yet he hoped it wasn't a sign of what laid ahead.

  Highway to hell by AC/DC, what a classic…

  Noelle’s head rested against the window of the Greyhound as it pulled from the terminal in Denver. She felt shattered and hardly had any decent sleep since this time, the previous day. The effects of coffee had long since worn off, and energy drinks never worked on her. The thought of going home was the thing that kept her going. Noelle glanced at the mountains. The bus headed out onto the open road, and she thought back to when she was training as a hunter with her parents high up in the mountains. They'd been good times —and hard times.

  Noelle couldn't have pictured herself in this situation in a million years. She'd not only fallen for a werewolf alpha, she'd been a hybrid, then back to human, and dumped in the wilderness to die. And now, she was rushing to find the alpha of her dreams.

  Her eyes fell on the sprawling forests that spread as far as the eye could see up onto the mountains, and beyond. She stared and stared, and slowly her eyes closed. Her attention was piqued by the horn of the bus. She woke at the moment it swerved, and a couple of the passengers screamed. Noelle stood and gripped the seat in front of her.

  The driver raised his hand and yelled, “Everything’s okay, it was nothing but a deer running across the road.”

  Noelle peered from the side window and kept it to herself that the deer was being chased by a wolf. She wasn’t sure if the driver saw it and was saying nothing, or if he didn’t know what he'd seen. As long as his eyes stayed on the road, that was all she cared about.

  Noelle began recognizing the surrounding areas, they’d reached Colorado Springs. She was almost home. Well almost wasn’t exactly correct, the route to Cripple Creek was long and winding. Middle of nowhere was an understatement. Their claim to fame was, and always would be, the gold mines. And if it weren't for them, there wouldn’t be a town at all.

  The bus ground to a halt in the terminal, and Noelle chose to have a walk around before grabbing a cab. She’d had enough of sitting down to last her a fortnight. Noelle finally exited the terminal and grabbed a coffee and a sandwich from a food truck that was positioned just outside the gates. She bit into the sandwich as she sat on a large, concrete flowerpot, and whilst watching the passersby. Noelle looked through the crowd of early morning shoppers and thought she recognized someone. She stood and made her way onto the street.

  “Megan,” she called, as she pushed her way through the travelers walking to the terminal. “Megan, stop! Wait! It’s me, Noelle.” Noelle cleared the crowd and tapped Megan on the shoulder. She turned and stared at Noelle. “Megan, thank God I’ve seen someone I know.”

  Megan stared with a blank expression at Noelle. “And you are?” she asked, confused.

  “Come on Megan, don’t mess around, I know I’ve been missing for months, and you can’t have forgotten me that quickly,” Noelle said, now trying to force a smile.

  At that moment, and for a long while after, Noelle had no idea Edmund made sure none of her family knew of her existence. She wasn’t even a ghost to them. In fact, to Megan and all of her family, it was as if Noelle had never, even existed.

  “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” Megan said in a flat tone. “Now, if you don’t mind, can you leave me alone, please?”

  Noelle stood in shock, her coffee and sandwich hanging at her side as she watched Megan turn and walk off. What the hell? Noelle came to her senses and was torn between going to her parents’ place, and finding out what was wrong with Megan —and heading straight for Clifton Towers to see what was happening around there. Noelle dropped the remains of her sandwich in a dumpster and hailed a cab.

  “Where are you going, miss?” the cab driver asked, craning his head over his shoulder. Noelle sat in silence, her backpack firmly gripped on her lap for comfort. “Miss, I say, where are you heading?” Noelle stared glassy-eyed through the cab window. The cab driver clicked his fingers. “HEY MISSY, where ya headed?” he yelled.

  “Oh, sorry! Clifton Towers, Cripple Creek,” she muttered without moving her gaze from the window.

  The cab ride wasn’t going to be a short hop, and the road to Cripple Creek circled around the mountains, so Noelle dropped the bag at her side and rested her head back. Her gaze never left the window as she saw all the lush green trees whizzing by them. The closer they got to the Towers, the stronger her thoughts of Declan became. She remembered the days they'd been out driving in his old (yet reliable) car. The radio on, windows down, and the wind in their hair. They'd been like any young couple; hand-in-hand and singing along to the tunes on the radio.

  That was on the good days, the bad days we
re far from any standard couple’s relationship. Noelle hadn’t been very fair to Declan. In truth, she’d slept with Edmund thinking he’d be her savior, yet deep down, she knew there was only one man for her. Noelle knew the cab was close, and she’d seen the signs for the mine, so the town was only a few minutes away. Noelle sat and stared as the familiar streets of Cripple Creek rolled into view. She’d been away for months, yet she had that feeling you get when you were at home, the one that doesn’t take too long to sink in. Home will always be home, and there’s no other feeling like it.

  “Hey mister, forget Clifton Towers, can you take me to the coffee shop,” Noelle said as she directed the driver. “It’s been a long trip, and I need something to perk me up a little.” The cabbie drove past the Towers as Noelle glanced out from the window. She could see it looked the same, yet different, and she just couldn't put her finger on why.

  “I’m coming home, I’ve had enough of being alone.”

  Chapter 17

  It’s Me Again

  “Be careful making your presence felt when it’s least expected.”

  Declan hadn’t stopped. He couldn’t take the risk of another event like the kid clambering through the window. If it hadn’t been for the shape of the crossbow, his bag and the poultice would be well gone by now, and he’d have to do some severe head-scratching about what to do.

  Declan slowed the car as the familiar turning came into view. It had overgrown since the last time he was here, yet as a kid, he’d seen it in every season, and he'd always recognized the track leading to his old home.

  He wound up the windows and turned the radio off. He drove slowly as his headlights bounced off the trees. Rabbits darted in front of him, but he wasn’t sure if it was him that had scared them, or something else that was in the undergrowth, watching. He rounded the final bend and the house stood in the eerie darkness. As the lights hit the front of his old home, it took on the appearance of a large clown face staring back at him. Two, large, upstairs windows as eyes, and the door as the nose. As a kid, it had freaked him out a couple of times, and more often than not, when he was coming home on his bike, and the small light struggled to light anything. Anything, apart from four feet in front of where he was going.

  Declan always entered the house from the rear door. He knew it wasn’t a large clown, but just to be on the safe side, he entered the same way. That was what he'd always done, and that was what he was going to do now.

  The car ground to a halt, and he grabbed his backpack and his lantern. He stepped onto the gravel and crunched his way to the rear steps. The thud of his boots and the creak of the warped, half-rotten wood filled the clearing where the house stood. He pulled the screen door and held it with his foot as he pushed his hand against the faded blue paint. As he stepped through the doorway, his eye caught the markings on the door frame where his mom measured how tall he was, and his age at the time. Declan ran his fingers over the faint grooves as he remembered.

  He stepped into the dark kitchen and placed the lantern onto the kitchen table. He spotted an old kerosene lamp by the sink. He shook it to see if there was any fuel remaining, and he heard a slight slosh. He lifted the glass and found a box of matches. At least they still work.

  Declan struck the first match and held it to the singed wick of the kerosene lamp. It fizzled as the match went out. He tilted the lamp to the side and could smell the kerosene rising up the wick. He held the second match, and the wick began burning as the acrid smell of burning kerosene wafted over to his nose. Declan closed the glass cover and placed the lamp on the old, log, burning stove.

  Shadows danced around the dark hearth of the stove as the small flame flickered inside the glass. He walked back to the kitchen table and sat with his hands clutching at the backpack. I’m not letting this poultice out of my sight, no fricken way.

  Declan sat in the dim lights of the lanterns and waited. He breathed slow and quiet, and listened to all the noises he could hear from the forest. Owls hooted in the wind that blew through the treetops. Declan heard a tapping at the window. He knew this was the branch of the tree outside. He was always tasked with trimming it back as a kid, because it freaked his mom out the first time she'd heard it. “Declan can you get rid of that branch,” she had called. Declan was only too happy to oblige, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his mom.

  Declan sat for what felt like an hour. He lifted his head as he heard a creak from upstairs. Now that’s not a regular sound from the wind. Declan reached into his backpack and pulled out the small crossbow, then he fastened it to his wrist and pulled back the string. He took one of the bolts and clipped it into place. Declan slipped his arm through the sling of his backpack and stood up from the table. He took hold of the lantern and crept toward the bottom of the stairs. He stood with his ear cocked upward.

  He heard the creak again. It was coming from his old room. The first door on the left. Declan placed his foot on the bottom step and lifted his weight. If things hadn’t changed —he knew all the creaks on the stairs, and he could go up and down with his eyes closed, and still remain silent. Now his eyes weren’t closed, they were wide open and bulging. Declan’s heart pounded in his chest as adrenaline ran through his veins. He could hear the blood being pumped into his ears. Three more steps and he’d be facing his old kitchen door.

  Declan reached the top step. He held his arm in front of him with his finger ready on the trigger-string of the bow. He saw a faint light flickering from inside his room. His hand rested flat against the old drawing he'd made as an eight-year-old. “Declan’s Room,” he'd drawn in crayons which had now faded almost as much as the paper had yellowed. He pushed against the door. It began to creak, but then it fell silent. Now, the gap widened, and Declan leaned in, peering into the room. He saw a huddled figure sitting on the edge of his old bed —facing away from him.

  His arm shook as he pointed the bow in the direction of the figure. “Psst,” Declan whispered.

  The figure shifted and rested a hand on the bed. It turned its head to face Declan. His finger tightened on the trigger, and he could feel the tension building under his touch. He held the lamp high, and the light began brightening the room. The figure raised its hand and pulled at the hood. It slipped from its head as Declan saw the face.

  “Dustin, is that you?”

  Edmund followed the same routine to sneak into the rear of the Towers. He stood next to the dumpster and crouched, waiting for the guys to finish smoking. Edmund listened to the pack members talking as the smell of the cigarettes wafted into his direction.

  “You ready for tomorrow night?” the first wolf-guard said.

  “Hell yeah, you can’t beat watching a couple of females fighting, it’s such a turn on,” the second one replied. “They should include some mud and make it way more exciting.”

  Edmund heard the pull of a cigarette as one of them filled their lungs with horrible chemicals. “Now that’d be fun, but better if they were in human form and bikinis,” he said, exhaling loudly.

  “I’ve heard different stories, a few of the pack are saying it’s just gonna be until one of the bitches quits, and some are saying it’s to the death,” the first one said. “It’d be a shame if it’s to the death in each round, there are some hot chicks we have living here.”

  “I’m with you on that one, it’d be a shame to lose all that poontang.”

  “Now that’s a word I haven’t heard in a few years. And you’re right, there is some nice poontang,” the guard said giggling. “Come on, we better go; shut the gate, will ya.” Edmund saw the first cigarette hit the wall and fall in a shower of sparks.

  “Right with ya; you poontang-loving, son of a gun.” Edmund heard watched as he tossed his cigarette butt against the wall.

  Damn these guys are out of date. Edmund stood from the side of the dumpster and rushed to the gate as it was about to close. He pushed against it and slid through the gap, pushing it closed behind him.

  “Have you checked that the gate’s
locked?” Edmund heard from inside the large rear entrance door.

  “I pushed it closed, don’t you trust me?” he heard the second voice say. “I’ll go and check it. Okay!”

  Edmund crouched behind a large crate that sat at the side of the gate. He held his breath as he heard heavy breathing and footsteps pass him by. “See! It’s locked, like I said.”

  “I’ll let you off this time,” Edmund heard from the first guy. The footsteps started again then stopped. Edmund could hear sniffing.

  “Hey Kyle, I can smell something in the yard, it’s not normal.” Edmund panicked and froze. His breath was firmly locked inside of his lungs. He heard a second set of footsteps approaching. Another sniff, a deeper sniff.

  “Ya dumb shit, it’s just those menthol cigarettes you’ve started smoking.”

  The footsteps faded into the darkness as Edmund finally exhaled and gasped for another breath, immediately. That was too freakin’ close for comfort. He peered over the crate as the door to the rear of the apartments closed. He ran under the shadow of the wall to the steel cover at the far side of the courtyard. Edmund lifted the rusted chain and slid it from the hoop of the steel cover. He clambered inside, pulling the cover closed over his head. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled a small flashlight and turned it on. It was much better than the dim light he had on his phone last time he was here.

  Edmund crept down the hallway and reached the scattered bones. The stench rose, and he covered his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He entered the door and pushed his ear against it to listen for voices. Silence. Edmund twisted the handle and pulled the door toward him. He stepped into the white tiled room and saw the floor an inch deep in water.